Well met by Candlelight
by Mad Possum
Summary: One bar, two major characters... Susan and Angua find intelligent conversation in each other in Biers. First Fic, I'm afraid


**Well met by Candlelight**

I've always wondered if Susan and Angua had met: after all, they're in the same city, and drink in the same bar, and seem to be the only people in the bar who actually look human. I figured their personalities are similar enough that they'd really hit it off, so I decided to write about the first time they meet. I'd put this somewhere between the end of Feet of Clay and the start of Jingo chronologically (which is why Angua is a corporal, and Susan still a governess).

NOTE: This is NOT a slash, and isn't intended to be, so don't try reading into anything.

Anyway, first fic, so don't be too harsh... please

Disclaimer: Believe it or not, I don't own Discworld; all characters and locations are copyrighted to Terry and Lyn Pratchett. No infringement is intended or should be inferred.

* * *

Biers was a haven for those who wished to be themselves. Everyone kept up an act all day; acting as if they know what they are doing, acting as if they are qualified to do their job, acting as if they weren't wishing they had stayed in bed that morning. 

But Biers was the destination for people who acted that little bit more than most people. Biers was the destination for the undead and the people of the night (who aren't the same people as people who work at night, or the other people of the night… hem hem).

Tonight a newcomer was in Biers. Normally his meant a bit of light entertainment for the regulars, and perhaps a free meal for some. But at this point most regulars were staying well clear of the newcomer. Igor, the bartender, was serving her as easily as he would serve any zombie or bogeyman. She wore black; not assassin's black, but a black that was so dark it hurt the eyes to look at for too long.

The door opened, and all eyes in the room went to it, because this was Biers after all, and if the wrong person walked in no one wanted to miss the entertainment. But somehow simultaneously none of the patrons took any interest at all, because this was Biers after all, and if the wrong person walked in no one wanted to be the one accused of 'lookin' at me funny, pal'.

A blonde woman walked into (or, as this was Biers, out of) the light, and hung a copper helmet on the underused hat stand by the door. She wore City Watch issue sandals, a short skirt of brown leather, which matched the Watch-brown shirt she wore under City Watch issue chain mail and what could only be called a breastplate.

The eyes went back to drinks, cards or other patrons. No one wanted to be noticed by a werewolf, especially if that werewolf was a copper as well. Not that the City Watch was worth bothering about, but rumours about recent events had been flying.

The woman walked up to the bar, and after a muttered order received a fruit juice. The woman looked around, and noticed the black clad stranger. Oh dear, she thought, a norm thinking it's cool to hang round the undead. I'd better get her out of here, or she'll be dog meat within half an hour and I know what I'm talking about.

She took the Fruit Juice and sat down next to the girl in black. Girl was perhaps the wrong word: while she only looked around 19 years old, she had a bearing and a presence that suggested that this was definitely an adult. This confused the blonde woman, who was only in her early 20s herself; an adult should know better than to be here.

"Hi." She said. She extended a hand. "Angua. I haven't seen you here before, have I?"

The girl looked round. Her hair was almost standing on end, leading the words 'steel magnolia' to spring to mind. Her hair was all white with one black streak. Not white as in old, but as in so blonde that the word blonde no longer even applied. Her eyes confirmed that she was an adult, and in all probability knew better… better than Angua anyway.

NO. The words weren't heard; they just appeared in the mind, carving themselves into existence. GO AWAY.

Angua blinked. Okay, she thought, perhaps I was a little hasty in my assessment of this woman.

"That's what I get for trying to be polite, is it?" she said.

The other woman's eyebrows shot up.

"You did hear me, didn't you?" she asked, cautiously.

"Oh yes," Angua replied, and tapped the badge that was on a leather strip so tight around her neck the word 'collar' could have applied. "Being a copper sort of forces you to ignore the first thing people say. It's never generally true."

"Oh." The woman took the still proffered hand. "Susan. I didn't know Watchmen drank here."

Angua smiled.

"They don't. The only time you'd get Commander Vimes in here is with a stake, and not the medium rare kind. This Watchwoman, however, does. My full name's Delphine Angua von Uberwald."

"The Baron's family?" Susan asked.

"Lotto. It's a change not to have to spell it out."

"Oh." Susan sipped the gin and tonic in front of her, and then said, "I'm Susan Sto Helit."

"Sto Helit?" Angua asked. "Are you a cousin of Mortimer, or a granddaughter…?"

"Daughter."

"Wouldn't that make you Duchess Sto Helit?" Angua asked.

"I don't talk about it. Or think about it."

"Oh. I know that tune." Angua laughed. "I'm not exactly hyped up thinking about a

Barony back home either." Susan smiled, then said

"Why do you drink here? It's hardly the kind of place for aristocracy."

"I could ask you the same question. Anyway, the reason I drink here is the same reason I work in the Watch; I'm not too popular at home, I need money and I don't intend to go back tail between legs… yeah, yeah, laugh it up… so I have to make a new life. Right down to where I drink. Anyway, I doubt the aristocracy of this city would be too keen on drinking with a werewolf. Why do you drink here?"

"I heard no one asks questions in this place. Shows what they know." She smiled wanly at Angua. "It's because no one asks questions when I have to tell people to go away… forcefully."

"Except me." Angua smiled.

"Except you." Susan agreed. "Why did you ask questions?" Angua shrugged.

"You look human and don't smell like a vampire. That's not that common here. Look in that corner, see him?" Angua indicated what looked like a small mountain covered in fur. "That's Ludwig. He's another street merchant most of the time, no one would think he's a werewolf, but he… let's his hair down here. You look normal. I wondered who you are to drink in here."

"And…" Susan pushed.

"Alright. And I thought as a copper I had better get you out of here before you got torn to pieces. I thought you _were_ normal, to be honest." Susan smiled.

"You'd be surprised how good it feels to be told that."

They drank in silence for a while, and then Susan asked,

"If you don't mind me asking… if you're a werewolf, why are you drinking a fruit juice?"

"I'm vegetarian." Angua replied, then caught Susan's incredulous look. "If I'm vegetarian most of the time, it helps a lot to keep control at full moons. I'd rather not get run out of town with pitchforks and flaming torches: I had enough of that in the hubward cities." After a while she added, "Why do you drink here? I mean really?"

"Like I said," Susan replied, "no one asks questions."

Angua sighed.

"I can tell when people are lying." She said.

Susan looked at Angua out of the corner of her eye. Then, carefully, she asked,

"What do you know about partial immortality?"

Angua blinked.

"Um… partial? I think you're either immortal or you're mortal…I don't think immortality has any truck with partial."

"Well, I'm part immortal." Susan replied. Angua's mind tried to digest this while her mouth quipped,

"Which part?" Susan looked at her. "I'm sorry, that was tasteless." Angua conceded.

"My maternal grandfather is the part." Susan replied calmly.

"So… your maternal grandfather is…?" Angua let the question hang.

Unimportant. Susan lied.

"Okay." Angua took a sip of her fruit juice as her self-preservation instinct over-rode her copper instinct telling her something was wrong.

Susan suddenly smiled.

"Do you know how long it's been since I talked with someone who held out from saying something incredibly stupid that made me loose all faith in sentient intelligence for this long?"

"If the people you meet are anything like the people I meet, a long time." Angua replied. Susan actually laughed at this.

"Got it in one. So… sorry, I'm not much good at small talk other than introductions. Um… what do you do?"

"I'm a tracker dog for the City Watch." Angua said slightly bitterly. "On occasion I'm an intelligent Watchwoman, but mostly tracker dog." She finished her drink. "Still, beats being a seamstress, I guess."

"Not much good with a needle, then?" Susan replied.

"You can't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about." Susan laughed.

"No, but everyone I've told I don't fancy that profession have asked me about my needle work."

"I can sympathise with that. So what do you do instead?"

"I'm a governess. I try to teach children to be adults."

"What?" Angua asked, "Telling them there's no monster under the bed?"

"That's what I'm meant to do." Susan replied, finishing her drink. "But I generally give them an iron pipe and let them get on with it. No sense telling them bad things don't exist." Angua raised an eyebrow.

"So you send children to bed armed to the teeth? Remind me never to employ you if I have kids."

"What's the alternative? Telling them bogeymen don't exist?" Susan looked pointedly at a group in a corner of the bar.

"Touché." Angua replied. "Another drink?" Susan nodded, and Angua grabbed their (now empty) glasses and crossed to the bar. She returned a moment later with two wine glasses and a bottle. "This is the first time I've met anyone worth talking to in Biers. I thought I should celebrate."

She poured two glasses, and passed one to Susan, who sipped it. Her eyes widened.

"This isn't bad. What is it?" Angua read the label on the bottle;

"'Rimward Uberwaldian Gewurtstraminer is a unique blend of the gewurtstraminer grape and Uberwaldian fermentation methods, which gives the finest pre-planting wine on the disc…' yeah, well, we'll be the judge of that."

"Gewurtstraminer?" Susan asked, "Isn't that really expensive?"

"Not in Biers," Angua replied, "besides, this is on His Lordship." Angua tried the wine, and found it to her liking.

"How so?" Susan asked, also savouring the gewurtstraminer.

"I had to take the Watch petty cash off Nobby… he's a watchman and petty thief. I didn't get round to putting it back, so I'll put it to some good use here."

"A petty thief? In the Watch?"

"Yep. Old Stoneface… Commander Vimes, that is… says he'll let any criminal go who can find a normal, honest man in the Watch." Angua smelt the aroma of the wine, savouring it more than any human could. "Do you know how many people in this City I have really talked to since I've arrived?" Susan shook her head. "Not one. It's amazing to be able to talk to someone without some idiot question coming up."

"I know what you mean." Agreed Susan. "I'd almost lost hope of finding intelligent conversation in this city." She raised her glass slightly. "Here's to intelligent company."

"I'll drink to that." Angua's glass gently met Susan's, and both women sipped at the wine.

Eventually, Angua asked,

"So… who is your grandfather?"

"You just don't give up, do you?" retaliated Susan.

"Nope. And if you say something about dogged perseverance, I won't be held responsible for the result." Susan smiled.

"Thanks for the warning. Okay… my grandfather is… Death."

"He's hard of hearing?" Angua raised an eyebrow.

"No." Susan swallowed. "He's Death."

Angua paused for a moment. She looked into her wine.

"The thin guy who turns up when people die?"

"Yes. Harvester of souls, Grim Reaper, rides a horse called Binky." Susan sat back. "You can run screaming now. Or laugh in my face. Your choice."

Angua did neither. She continued to look at her glass. Then she drained it, and refilled it. Finally she said,

"And I thought the Vampire-werewolf get-togethers made for weird childhood memories. Well, that explains some things."

"Like what?" Susan asked.

"Like the way your hair has slowly changed from standing on end to just falling down your back without you touching it." Susan's hand went to her head, and then slowly came down again.

"And you're not having hysterics because…?"

Angua refilled Susan's glass, smiling.

"I work for a man whose family has a history of regicide. I have a relationship with a man who was brought up by dwarves and is really the heir to the throne. I work with a dwarf who sort-of-doesn't cross-dress, and a troll with a cooling hat. I spend most of my day with a vampire who thinks going batty is a normal occurrence. I come from a family who have a species superiority complex. Why not round it off by drinking with the granddaughter of the final reality?"

Susan smiled in relief, and drunk from her refilled glass. "Just one thing." Angua added. "Really a horse called Binky?"

"Yes. He's white."


End file.
